The Breakfast Club
by Atlantean Diva
Summary: What happens when a Jock, a Rebel, a Princess, a Free Spirit and a Geek have detention together? Who knows. A/U
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does, and she has the money to prove it. Bloomsbury, Scholastic, and Universal all have their hands in the pot, so I will in no way profit from this work.

Story Notes: I love teen movies, especially the ones from the 80's and 90's. This idea popped into my head months ago, but I only recently plotted some of it out. I thought about changing the title, but I'm leaving it honor of the late great John Hughes.

The bones of the plot are from The Breakfast Club, but the story will not follow it to the letter. I will also be borrowing little tidbits from other teen flicks, see if you can recognize them. (The last wasn't planned)

I'm amplifying certain character traits above others for the sake of the plot. Plus, this is story takes place in an alternate universe where my dear Tom never went psychotic and murdered a bunch of people. *g* So please keep that in mind when you read because the characters don't live under the same circumstances that they do in cannon. E.G. Harry's parents are a live…

This is my second attempt at writing a Harry Potter fanfic and my first foray into Dramione. I'm still finding my way in this fandom, so please bear with me if things get bumpy.

Lastly, for this story Ginny and Ron are twins and Luna is in her seventh year. The former aren't really important as their roles are minuscule.

* * *

_Welcome to Your life_

_There's no turning back_

_Even while we sleep_

_We will find you_

_Acting on your best behavior_

_Turn your back on Mother Nature_

_Everybody wants to rule the world_

_(Tears for Fears)_

* * *

**Prologue**

**Thursday Night**

The Rebel Prince

There were few things Draco Malfoy loved more than having a hot mouth surrounding his swollen member, especially if said mouth was as skilled at the one currently attached to him. He groaned, running his fingers through the blonde silky tresses attached to the head of the female, well, giving him head.

The small dark alcove near the dungeon was the perfect spot for a tryst, although Draco usually strived for a little more privacy than shagging in the hallway. However, this dark, musty alcove would make due since he wasn't technically shagging the bint. No need for candle light and romance for an easy lay like Lavender Brown. Not that he ever took the time to give any of his conquests a romantic night. They wanted his body and he gave it to them. It was mutual, they understood, and if they didn't, they were fools. Draco Malfoy was a no strings attached type of guy. It was fact, and he didn't deal with witches who delved in fiction.

"Right there luv," he said, gripping her long hair. His back tensed as her tongue swirled over him again, and again, before he released himself down her throat. Lavender Brown might receive acceptables working behind a desk, but she was outstanding on her knees and exceeded expectations on her back.

"Hmm," she said, licking her full red lips, "delicious."

"I know," he said, pulling up his pants. Straightening his hair, which fell rakishly across his eyes, he paused as he was about to help Lavender to her feet. "Fuck, what was that?"

"What was what?" the blonde ask, about to rise.

"Come out of there if you please," a voice drawled.

"Shit," Malfoy cursed, "Stay down and shut up," he said, covering her with his long cloak.

Severus Snape stepped over to the alcove and stared at his godson who leaned lazily back against the wall, as if he had nowhere to be.

"What are you doing out this late Draco?"

"Patrolling," he said nonchalantly.

"I find that hard to believe since Weasley and Parkinson are on duty tonight."

_Fuck, _Draco internally cursed. Of course the Weasel would screw shit up for him. "I must have misread the schedule."

_Yeah right, _Snape thought. He knew Draco very well and he was meticulous in everything that he did. It also hadn't escaped his notice that he could see the soles of stiletto heels peeking out from under his godson's cloak. "I suppose you also mistakenly put on of the Slytherin females shoes on your way out."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave a Gaelic shrug, but didn't reply.

Severus sighed, and shook his head. "I do hope you weren't looking forward to going home on Saturday for spring break because you will be spending the day in detention with me.

"What," Draco said, his composer dropping. "You can't do that, I'm supposed to meet up with Blaise and Theo in Monte Carlo."

"And you still can, but not Saturday morning." Snape turned from his godson to stare at the shoes again. "Care to tell me who that is?" He nodded towards the black patent leather shoes.

"A gentleman never kisses and tells," smirked the Slytherin Prince.

Snape raised one dark eyebrow before turning on his feet and walking away, an imperceptible smirk on his face. He'd taught him well.

* * *

**A few ours later**

The Geek

Neville Longbottom sloshed his way back up to the castle in the dead of night, his feet caked in the rain drenched soil that surrounded the green house. He'd been out late checking on his plants for his N.E.W.T.s. He knew he needed a good grade in the class if he hoped to pursue an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout. It wasn't as if he was going to get one with anyone else, and besides, he loved plants.

He'd always had a bit of green thumb because he understood them more than most, perhaps because they were a bit like him. Plants took careful tending to. One couldn't rush the process or they'd inevitably kill the bloom. Or sometimes an inept hand would merely destroy a part of the plant and it would take years to restore. Plants deserved tender loving care because they were the key to curing many of the world's illnesses or an expression of the deepest emotions. And yet, they were mostly over looked until in full bloom. The finished product wasn't the magic, it was in the growing. Watching a plant flourish over time to become what you had known it could be, but doing more than you ever imagined was the true magic. Magic very few could appreciate.

Wiping his muddy feet on the top step, Neville entered the castle and walked right into Professor Snape's path.

"Detention, Saturday morning Mr. Longbottom," The professor sneered, and walked away without a backwards glance.

* * *

**Friday afternoon free period**

The MVP

The seventh floor corridor was a hub of excitement with sixth and seventh years lining either side of the hall. Bets were flying left and right as students waved Ron over to take their wagers. The red head did so with glee, counting the money he'd have to spend on his trip to the states.

Harry Potter held his sleek Firebolt in one hand, while his other lay casually at his side. The black haired Gryffindor winked at the females along the side lines who vied for his attention. His gorgeous green eyes took in every female, categorizing their features for later when he had a chance to decide who to shag before break.

Shaking his head, he pulled his attention back to Dean Thomas who was standing at the starting line.

"All right you two," Dean said, referring to Harry and Theodore Nott.  
"The first one to fly down to the second level, retrieve their house flag, and returns to the start wins." The brown skinned boy looked from one to the other, "any questions?"

Theo and Harry exchanged looks before shaking their heads.

"And just so we're clear, no cheating. There are spies up and down the corridors, so I'll be aware if either of you cheats."

Harry scoffed, as if he had to cheat to win this race. He was the best flier in Hogwarts and had already been snatched up to play Seeker by Puddlemere United and would be training with the national team in the fall. Theo Knott was a good flier, but he wasn't Harry James Potter.

"Are you ready," Theo and Harry nodded, while the crowd gave an excited cheer. "Quiet you idiots," Dean hissed, "we don't need to let the whole bloody school know what we're up to." Several grumbles rang out from the student who wore various house colors. Turning away from the group, he eyed Harry, "don't get caught," before stepping away."

Harry smiled at his friend as he threw his leg over the broom. The hard smooth wood felt good beneath his hands, as settled over the seat.

Ginny Weasley walked over to the boys; slightly distracting them from preparing to take off in her tight, green carpi's, and black lace camisole. Untying a small, green, silk scarf from her neck, she held it high and then let it fall.

The boys took off on either side of Ginny, causing her red hair to flutter in the wind. She ran a few steps and watched as the two took off, before her boyfriend, Blaise, slipped a caramel arm around her waist and pulled her over to wait with him against the wall.

Harry felt free as his broom zoomed along the empty all way. This was power, defying the gravity as the wind tried to knock you down. Not that it was overly windy in the corridor, but it felt like. He flew low to the ground, picking up speed as he headed towards the staircase, before pulling straight up over the banister and shooting down.

He zigzagged through the stairs, which seemed to try to block his way. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear they were doing on purpose. A clean stretch lay ahead so he took a chance to check on his competitor's progress. Glancing to his left he spied Nott, who was slightly behind, but not enough. The Slytherin's face was damp with perspiration and his were teeth gritted.

Harry laughed. S_omeone looks a little scared," _he thought, smirking.

"Watch out," a female squealed, causing Harry to whip around fast. The staircase had moved into his path. Gripping the broom handle tight, he moved it to the left, maneuvering into spiral turn, before dipping back down, and easing out on the second level.

"Shit," The Gryffindor cursed, noticing Nott was now a head of him. Pushing his broom harder, he sped up, coming even with Nott as they made their way closer to the flags that were floating in the middle of the hall. Harry slowed a bit to make a U-turn, and grabbed his flag before Nott, who went to fast and over shot his.

Smiling gaily as he passed in the opposite direction, Harry flew back up to the tower. Yes, he'd done it, again. No one could beat him. _I am the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever would be,_ he thought cockily. Dodging the stair easily this time, he popped over the seventh floor banner, and prepared to zoom back to the start, but was stalled.

"Mr. Potter," came a voice that made him groan. "Get off of that broom this instant." Professor McGonagall stood at the beginning of the corridor near the staircase.

Harry debated ignoring the Professor so that he could win and collect his winnings, but his head of house slightly scared him. Fuck, he was almost to the finish.

"Don't even think about it Potter," she said, he thick brogue sounding harsher than usual. "My office, now," she practically growled, before turning on her heels and walking away.

Harry hovered on his broom as he watched her descend the stairs. He should follow her, he really should, but he needed, well not needed, but wanted the money to spend on his holiday in Miami with Ron, Dean, and Seamus. Besides, he was already in trouble. He kicked his broom into gear. Fuck it; she could wait.

* * *

**Friday before dinner**

The Posh Princess 

Hermione Granger stared at her flawless reflection in the mirror of her Head Girl's dorm. Her caramel kissed chestnut locks curled perfectly about her shoulders. Her flawless, peaches and cream complexion was dusted with a light hint of makeup that gave her natural look. Hermione found girls who wore too much makeup tended to either look like two dollar whores, clowns, or little girls playing dress up. She wasn't sure which was worse, and found it abhorrent that they failed to realize how constantly wearing copious amounts of makeup aged you. Hermione would age beautifully. The only times she wore heavy makeup was doing Halloween or at a costume ball.

Straightening her white cardigan, over her red, empire cut sundress, she stepped away from the mirror. Hermione loved Fridays because she didn't have to wear a uniform and could show off her personal style. Giving her appearance a final look, she walked gracefully out of her room and down to the stairs to her own private common room where three girls waited patiently.

"Harry has detention on Saturday," Ginny reported, fixing the sleeves of the green bolero jacket she wore over her sundress.

"Detention," she queried, standing in middle of her white common room with red accents.

"Yes," Pansy chimed in, "as does Draco."

Hermione stared at the black haired witch who wore a canary yellow baby doll dress that warmed her porcelain skin. "I'm not terribly surprised that either has detention, but you can't mean this Saturday, Gin."

"She does," Daphne said, straightening out the full skirt of her baby blue dress.

Hermione didn't say anything, but walked past her friends and out the door. Once out the girls fell in line on either side of her. The girls' heels clicked in unison as they made their way down the stairs towards the great hall for dinner. They ignored the male body who watched appreciatively, and the girls who looked on green with envy.

Hermione smiled as students made way for the Hogwarts Hotties, as some aptly called them. It was crude name, one she didn't really approve of, but it was what it was. She was just lucky that Katie Bell, ex Queen B, had taken her under her wing in fourth year. She shuddered to think what her days would have been like if she'd stayed the shy, friendless, know it all.

Hermione thanked God every day for her intelligence, which had saved her from being a social pariah. Katie Bell hadn't been the smartest witch, so Hermione was indispensable to her.

"I'm so looking forward to cruising around the Riviera on daddy's yacht," Pansy said haughtily.

"I can't wait to get a tan," Ginny said, waving a pale hand in the air for emphasis.

"I can't believe this is our last spring break together," Daphne said, somewhat morosely.

"Ah, Daph, you act as if we won't stay friends after graduation." Ginny said, rolling her eyes at the dramatic friend in the group.

"Well, you all better, or I'm afraid I might swallow some Drano."

Pansy laughed, "Drano, Daphne stop making things up."

Daphne grinned, but tucked her suicidal tendencies away. Like she'd ever kill herself, although saying little things like that always made her parents nervous. She didn't care how they felt because they always gave her what she wanted afterwards. They should have thought of her feelings before getting a divorce.

Hermione rolled her eyes, witches could be so clueless sometime. They wouldn't be laughing if they were aware that muggles unclogged their toilets with the stuff.

"Any other news," Hermione asked, dismissing Daphne's attention seeking behavior.

Pansy grinned, "Draco was caught in a most delicate situation."

"Pans, just come out and say."

"Cum is the right word," Pansy quipped.

Hermione turned her noes up at the vulgarity, "Pansy if you cannot speak like a proper witch, do not speak at all."

The Slytherin flushed, but continued, "Well Mia, he was with a female when it happened. Although Professor Snape didn't know who she was, but he did see her feet.

Hermione didn't ask how Pansy acquired these details because she didn't want to know and neither did she care. Flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder, she spied the great hall in the distance. "Who?"

"Who else, Lavender Brown-"

"Don't you mean Slagender Brown," Daphne tittered.

"Give Lav a break. I heard she suffers from nymphomania." Ginny quipped.

"Is that what they're calling it these days," Hermione said, a small smile playing on her perfectly painted rose lips. "I just thought she was a slut."

Pansy smirked, "She is."

"And you're not far behind," Ginny said, causing Hermione to giggle.

Pansy shot a dirty look at the red head as they stopped outside of the hall doors. Huffing, Pansy placed her arms on her non-existent hips as a third year boy from Ravenclaw scurried over to open the door.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" a male said from behind them, before they could step into the entrance.

The girls turned to stare at Cormac McLaggen the pompous Gryffindor git.

"Close it," Hermione said to the third year, who quickly obeyed, but stayed in his position.

"What do you want McLaggen," asked Ginny.

"I have an issue to bring up to the head girl."

"Really," Pansy said innocently, "What, did your right hand break up with you?"

Cormac turned red, and spat, "Slytherin whore."

"Ooh, Pansy, I think you hit a nerve," Daphne said.

"I'd rather fu," Pansy began, but stopped when Hermione held up a hand.

"Go inside, I'll be minute."

Throwing McLaggen dirty looks the girls turned on their heels and stepped into the great hall.

"Well," Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cormac didn't fail to notice how the move pushed her lovely breast up, giving her a better view of her cleavage. Although it wasn't hard to see the depth of the cleavage since was much shorter than him, even in her four inch white, patent leather Mary Jane's.

"I don't have all day McLaggen, spit it out.

"I was hoping we could go on a date when we return to from break."

"This was not head girls business."

"I know, but I just wanted to get you alone. I figured-"

The petite brunette scoffed at his paltry answer, and turned on her heels, not deigning give him a second look.

"Hey," Cormac whined, and reached for her, "I was talking to you." Grabbing her left arms, he said, "Come on baby, we could have a good time," before groping her derriere with his free hand.

Yanking away from him, Hermione turned towards him. "Don't you ever put your disgusting hands anywhere on my person again." Sliding her wand from the inside of her cardigan, she said "Avis and Opprungo" before Cormac could even blink.

McLaggen screeched as a flock of small yellow birds proceeded to try and rip his eyes out.

Hermione whispered something that sounded oddly like tweeting. A few birds veered from McLaggen's face and made their way down to his crotch, causing him to shriek like a baby.

The Princess smiled satisfied, before turning on her heels to make her way into the great hall.

"Not so fast Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, flicking her wand at the screeching boy on the ground. "I cannot believe that my," she cleared her throat, "one of our favorite students attacked a fellow classmate in the halls."

"But he touched me inappropriately," Hermione defended.

"Even still, I will see you in my office after dinner."

Hermione wanted to argue, but only nodded. "Of course professor," she said, eyes cast down.

"We'll discuss it the dear," McGonagall, said patting her on the shoulder before walking into the hall, without giving the whimpering boy on the floor a second look.

Hermione followed her favorite professor, a subdued frown marring her pretty face as the thought up all the ways she would destroy McLaggen once school reconvened. No one touched the HBIC.

* * *

**Midnight**

The Free Spirit

Luna Lovegood sat in the window in Raven Claw tower and looked out over the grounds below. The castle was quiet, except for the occasional animal call from the forbidden forest that spooned the castle like an obsessive lover wanting to consume it. It was a beautiful night, the kind of night when witches of old would run naked under the full moon. Slipping off her gown, Luna stepped slid her feet over the edge of the open window and wondered what tomorrow would be like. Smiling dreamily, as the wind caressed her bare skin.

* * *

A/N: _"I am the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be."_ This is Brett "Hitman" Heart's catch phrase. I didn't intend to us it, but somehow it flew, no pun intended, through Harry's extremely cocky brain. He must get this trait from James.

Two points to anyone who can recognize the other movie I used.

Hint: I didn't want to use blue, but because V was the best of the bunch. However, Mui Mui wanted it to be consistent.

Reviews are welcome and much appreciated.

Thanks for reading.


	2. One

I'm sorry about the wait. I just started a new job, and I've been working overtime.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or are following this story. I greatly appreciate it.

This chapter just sets up the day, and it's not very long. It's okay, it does what I need it do, so…

* * *

"Welcome to the real world," she said to me

Condescendingly

Take a seat

Take your life

Plot it out in black and white

(No Such thing by John Mayer)

* * *

One

In a small Library, small if you consider a room with an arched ceiling, two stories, and balcony small, sat a man contemplating his life.

What exactly had Severus Snape been thinking when he'd decided to become a teacher? It was a question he'd often asked himself, and fifteen years later he still hadn't come up with an acceptable answer. He was an intelligent man with a cunning streak and the ability to keep calm under pressure. He could have done anything he'd wanted to do, pursue any career he'd fancied, muggle or wizard. But no, he'd decided to shape young minds. Wasn't teaching supposed to be a noble endeavor? Wasn't he supposed to be proud of his chosen profession, instead of wondering what his life might have been like if he'd chosen to take up figure skating or long distance running? Random, he knew, but he was quite fond of the muggle sports and had the build of a long distant runner. He could have been an Olympian, or at the very least owned an apothecary shop where he could have made loads of money, money to fix up Spinner's End, his run down home. And yet, here he was watching five of his pupils drift into the room like logs fighting against the current. They weren't happy to be here and neither was he. It was almost a fair trade.

Neville Longbottom looked quite ill as made his way into the Library's overflow room, which held the school's muggle literature. His facial expression wasn't new to the professor; he'd witnessed it whenever he was in the vicinity of the young man. Snape wasn't sure if Neville had any other expressions, although he didn't particularly care if he did. The boy was terrible at potions. In faded blue jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, Neville flopped down at one of the six short, rectangular tables in the room and stared at everything except his professor.

Harry Potter entered next in black cargo shorts, a black Weird Sisters t-shirt, and white Vans. Snape wanted to scowl at the image of the young man who looked so much like his school nemesis, James Potter. His wild raven hair, strong jaw line, impressive height, and slender, athletic build were all courtesy of his father. He even flew like the legendary seeker who'd won an unprecedented five Quidditch World Cups during his career as seeker for the national team. They hadn't won the cup since his retirement.

Sitting down at the second table from the front, Harry smiled at Snape as if he could read his thoughts. _Arrogant little fuck. _Snape hoped Potter could read his mind. Had the boy gotten any qualities from his mother Lily other than his startling green eyes? As Potter relaxed back in the chair as if he owned the room, Snape couldn't help think, _No. _

A blonde followed Potter into the room. Snape wondered how she wasn't burning up in her black and white flannel shirt and red tights. He supposed her short blue jean shorts and red tank top gave her some relief, although he was certain the Doc Martins didn't. He'd never seen a woman wearing such heavy boots in the spring. But then again, he remembered that a few years back a bunch of kids went around dressed as if they hadn't heard of bathing. They'd called it shunge, munge, grunge? It didn't matter. She was an odd one if he remembered correctly. Although for the life of him he couldn't remember her name.

"Name," he said to the girl as she sat down at the table across from Harry and in front of Neville.

"Luna Lovegood," She replied in a dreamy voice.

_Is she high? _ Snape wondered, as he stared into joyous, bright blue eyes. She seemed down right happy to here, which was disconcerting to say the least. It was much too early in the morning for a normal person to be chipper. She must be a flake "House?"

"Ravenclaw"

Well, at least she's smart, even if she was a flake. Rowena didn't take dummies, unlike the other houses. Sadly, even his own Slytherin house took the occasional idiot.

But his godson, who swaggered into the room as if he owned it, wasn't one of them. Draco Malfoy looked like the blue blood he was, dressed casually in dark denim jeans, gray polo shirt, blue blazer, and white K Swiss. He sat down at one of the tables in front of Potter and cast him a dirty look. Snape smirked. He loved ruining his pupils' days. They ruined his more often than he did theirs, so it was only fair that he returned the favor whenever he could. It was the little things, you know.

A melodic click clacking sound announced the arrival of the last student, Hermione Granger. She glided into the room as if she floated on clouds, drawing the attention of every male in the room. And how could she not, in her red and black mini-kilt with a matching blazer that she wore over a white, un-tucked oxford shirt and red vest. She finished her look with black knee highs that ended in shiny, patent leather, candy apple red Mary Jane's. Not staring at anyone in particular, she sat at the table across from Malfoy.

Snape observed the five students as they looked at him with varying emotions, from boredom to fear. They were a mixed bag: brainy beauty, odd ball, geek, playboy, and jock, or as he called the latter, arrogant little fuck. It should be an interesting day…for them. _Why did I become a teacher?_ He asked himself again, before getting down to business.

"Today's detention will not be like others, so no need to fear ruining your manicures." He said pointedly to Draco who scowled. "Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for a group of six years who decided to set of dung bombs in the third floor corridor, you will not have to clean cauldrons."

A sigh of relief escaped Longbottom, Potter snorted, Malfoy drawled something that sounded like armatures, Lovegood stared dreamily up at him, and Granger looked as if he was wasting her time.

"Instead of the usual, cleaning or writing lines, you will write an essay." This statement brought the desired effect of groans from most of the students, except for Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood. Well, three out of five wasn't bad.

"Are you done," Snape drawled, stepping from around the desk he'd been occupying at the front of the room. "No need to whine, I do detest whiners," he said the last absently. "This will not be a potions essay."

"Thank God for small miracles," Potter muttered.

"I'd say that would be a rather large one considering your grades in potions Mr. Potter." Snape eyed the young man, who had the decency to duck his head in embarrassment. Perhaps he had gotten a little bit of Lily's humility...

"The essay," the professor began, deciding to get right to it. His original plan was to make them sit in this room without giving them anything to do. It would have made their time here go by slower, which would have driven them mad. It would have been delightful. But as he'd watched them come into the room, the idea struck, and he found that its merits outweighed his joy of their discomfort. "The essay is about you."

"About us," Draco Malfoy asked, "What about us? It's not as if you don't know everything about me. "

"More than I wish at times," Snape quipped.

"More than enough."

Snape nodded, ceding his godson the point. "I want you to tell me who you are? And not who your peers, parents, or teachers think you are. But who are you? Who do you, think you are? Do you even know?" Silence met his question, as he looked each student in the eye, their expressions finally lining up to a single thought. _Who am I?_

"Wouldn't the time be better served cleaning up the shelves," Miss Granger asked, motioning her hand towards the shelves of books that line three of the four walls in the room, as well as the many bookcases upstairs.

"The house elves will do it over break." He said, watching her closely. She looked fully composed, other than a small twitch of her eye at the words house elves. _Interesting, _thought Snape, before turning his attention to the other students.

"We-we-don't have an-any parchment?"

With a wave of the professor's wand a stack of parchment, pots of ink, and quills flew out of a cupboard on the second floor and stopped in from each student. "There you are Mr. Longbottom. Now, wands on the table."

"What for," asked Harry.

"Don't know question me Mr. Potter, do as you are told." Snape watched the students fidget in her their seats before putting their wands on the table.

"Now, you won't be needing these while you are here, so…" Snape moved to flick his wand.

"Wait, sir, just a moment." Hermione Granger said, snatching her wand from the table, she turned and pointed it at Miss. Lovegood whose dreamy eyes turned wide.

Without uttering a word, Hermione flicked her wrist once, and watched, satisfied, as Luna's tights and tank top turned from red to black.

Snape raised on dark brow, as Miss Granger turned back to him with a small smile playing on her lips. She slid her wand on the table and waited patiently for him to proceed. _Accio wands,_ he thought, and watched as they flew towards him and onto the table. Whispering under his breath he cast a solidifying spell on the air around the wands to create a box. "You have until three to finish."

"Three o'clock," Draco exclaimed, "That's six bloody hours from now."

"Yes, it is, so you might want to get on it."

"But-but—"

"Do not stutter Draco, it's very unbecoming." Snape said, turning to leave.

"How long does it have to be," Came a dreamy voice from behind him.

Snape paused, one hand on the door, "it doesn't matter, just as long as you're true to yourselves." He waited a beat for other remarks, but as silence met his back, he closed the door with a soft click.

* * *

The sound of the door closing signaled the beginning of a long, and tedious day, at least for Draco Malfoy, who had things to do, places to go, and witches to shag. But no, he was spending the day in a room with a bunch of losers. He glanced to his left and spotted Hermione Granger sitting primly in her seat, staring at the front of the room as if waiting for the professor to return. _I suppose they aren't all losers, even if she's a bitch_.

"What exactly does he mean?" Neville asked, from the back of the bunch.

"By what," Draco sneered, turning in his chair to face the geeky Gryffindor. "That he wants us to write an essay, or that we're stuck here for six fucking hours?"

Neville shrugged, and then mumbled, "The essay, I guess," at the blonde, who was looking at him as if he was something he'd scrapped off the bottom of his shoes.

"He wants us to write a bullshit essay detailing our failures, joys, and triumphs.

"That's not what he said," Potter said.

"Oh, Potter, then tell, what exactly do you think makes up a life?"

"He didn't say we had to tell him about our lives, just who we are." Hermione said.

"I'm rich," Draco said, then picked up his quill and wrote the words on the parchment. "There I'm finished."

"That's not who you are, that's what you are." Hermione rolled her eyes, "He doesn't care about our accomplishments no matter how big or," she glanced out of the corner of her eye at Luna and Neville, "small they are."

Draco smirked, catching the movements. "Some of us are bigger than others."

Hermione raised one eyebrow and turned back to face the front of the room.

Ignorant to the underlying tension, Harry asked, "But what are we if not our accomplishments,"

"We," Hermione began, but didn't finish. It was a tricky question or was it? It should be very easy to answer, yet the words seemed to have escaped her brain. A rarity, indeed, since there was very little that escaped the brain of the smartest witch to grace the Hogwarts hall in centuries.

Neville looked at the back of each head in front of him, wondering if they were as lost as he was. He honestly couldn't remember what the professor had assigned to them. "So, what does he want us to write about again?"

"He said," Luna answered, "I want you to tell me who you are?"

"But what does that mean?" Someone whispered, under their breaths, who, no one knew, not even the whisperer.

The room was silent as the prisoners stared down at the parchment as if the words to sum up their person would appear as if…well, by magic.

They didn't, no matter how long the five individuals stared at the page. The page stayed blissfully blank.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review.

P.S. I will try to update at least every other week; however, I'm writing to stories so please don't hold me to that. Still, I really will try. Thanks again for your feedback. :D

AD


	3. Two

A/N: Hello again! I apologize for the long wait, but between work and statistics I'm hella tired. Statistics is…YUCKY! I hate it! I absolutely hate it. Die! Die! Die! AAAAAAHHHHHHHH

Sorry about that, I needed to take a moment, LOL.

I always respond to reviews, so I'd like to thank the guests for reviewing: Alice B and…she was the only one who left her name.

**Please Note: Underlined sentences mean the character crossed it out. I had it crossed out in word, but it lost the format upon upload.**

* * *

I don't know where I am but I know, I don't like it

I open my mouth and out pops something spiteful

Words are so cheap, but they can turn out expensive

Words like conviction can turn into a sentence

**(Tenderness by General Public)**

* * *

**Two**

The sound of the hands on Hermione's watch ticking away the day sounded like the countdown to a bomb. At least to Neville it did. His dad had taken him to the cinema in muggle London a few years ago. He didn't remember much about the movie other than it took place in America, and there was a muggle device called a bomb that would blow up if the good guys didn't find it in time. The ticking had reverberated menacingly throughout the theatre. Each tick seemed to coincide with his heartbeat, just like now, except the ticking from Hermione's watch two tables away wasn't nearly as loud. And yet it felt the same, as if the blood pumped through his heart in synchronicity with little hand.

It was so quiet. Too quiet to think that there wouldn't be an abundance of speech soon. Speech would mean words, and words would mean thought, at least it should mean thought, but some people spoke with thoughtless disregard for others. No, perhaps the thoughts were all internal, and when mouths opened there would be nothing more than escape. Escape from the glass houses the potion master had put them in, so they could throw stones at others.

Perhaps he was being overly dramatic, too many muggle films. It wasn't as if he was a great thinker like Hermione Granger. He wasn't even insightful like Luna Lovegood. But he was observant. Neville knew what most people thought of him. They thought he was nothing more than a nerd who's only redeeming quality was his adroit hand in Herbology. But he was more than that, at least he hoped so.

Neville stared down at the blank papers for a minute before picking up his quill and writing four simple sentences.

_I like Marvel comic books._

_I like Stars Wars._

_I like arcades. _

_I like Ginny Weasley. _

Neville sighed at the last, before crossing it out.

_I like botany. _

_I am more, _Neville thought, staring at the list. It was odd that he preferred muggle entertainments to wizard. To be honest, he liked the technology of it all. The creativity it took to build something like a computer. His parents had indulged him in his love of muggle technology, and built him a small shack on the grounds of their small estate that wasn't warded so he could tinker with his toys, as his mother put it. He had dreams of someday combining muggle technology with magic and creating a way to use computers in the wizarding world. He was close, so very close thanks to his dad's help. Someday he would change the wizarding world.

Yes, there was more to Neville Longbottom than Herbology.

* * *

It was during times like that these when Draco Malfoy would ask himself what was the point of being rich and powerful when you couldn't get yourself out of something as useless at detention. It was preposterous that he, a son of the Malfoy and Black houses, was stuck in a room for six hours with plebeians. And sentenced by his own Godfather for Merlin's sake.

Draco shook his head and stared down at his elegant script that took up most of the parchment. _I'm rich._ Two words, that was all he'd written in the last twenty or thirty minutes. He couldn't remember which. Although he was sure he was close, as he could hear the hour ticking away on Granger's damnable watch. Could it be any louder? Like he needed a reminder of how long they'd been in here. It felt a lot longer than thirty minutes, more like years, or even decades.

Draco rubbed a manicured hand against his smooth jaw half expecting to find a bristles or a long white beard, a la their crazy coot of a headmaster, Dumbledore. He smirked, as if he'd ever grow a long beard, maybe a five o'clock shadow like George Michael. Draco faintly remember watching the video _Faith_ a few years ago, when Blaise's parents let them spend the night in a muggle hotel. It was for a bit of lark, but not as awful as he'd thought one would be. They'd stayed up all night watching what the muggles called music videos and television shows. Although he'd never tell anyone that he liked watching the telly. After all, Muggles were inferior to wizards in every aspect. But he couldn't help but find himself often checking into hotels during the summer just watch the telly. It was just too bad the stupid muggles hadn't come up with a way for him to watch them without having a television. Idiots.

_Argh, why the bloody hell am I thinking about the telly? _

_Perhaps because it would be might sight better than sitting in this room thinking about yourself._

"_Who asked you?"_

"_I am you, you wanker. _

Draco closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He was losing it. He was losing his marbles after only a half an hour into a six hour detention. He needed to do something.

_You can also write that essay. _

_Sod off. _

Picking up his quill he crossed out the two words from earlier and in smaller print at the bottom of the page wrote.

_I'm crazy. _

* * *

Luna Lovegood was having quite a nice time. The silence was refreshing, and she could almost hear the sound of each of her classmates breathing. The only defining sound in the room came from Hermione Granger, who was seated in front of her. Well, not that Granger was making a sound, but her watch was, and Luna found it quite soothing. Oh, it wasn't as loud as she made it out to be. In truth, it was barely audible unless you listened for it. One moment Luna heard it, and the next, she was oblivious to the fact that Hermione even had a watch.

Luna smiled. She'd like to get a muggle watch someday. But she wouldn't wear it every day. Not like most muggles did. At least that's what she learned in her Muggle Studies class. Muggles wore watches every day to keep track of time, unlike wizards who wore pocket watches or kept mini hourglasses tucked into clothes. Luna never thought it was really necessary to keep track of time. If one trained themselves right, their body would do it for them. She knew when she had to be at any place, because her body took her there when it was time. It was so nice not having to worry about time, even if there were moments when she rejected the motions of her limbs and stayed for a while in one place longer than was wise, when she should have been going to class. This small change would often have the dire consequence of knocking her completely off schedule for days. But she never worried. Luna knew that when it was time, she would return to where she was meant to be.

Smiling dreamily down at her paper, Luna picked up her pen and wrote one line.

_Time means almost nothing to me._

* * *

Hermione Granger was a fighter. She never quit, ever. And why should she, when she was the smartest witch the grace the hall of Hogwarts since Helena Ravenclaw? This wasn't her own self-assessment, as it was she who thought herself to be the smartest witch to grace the Hogwarts halls since Rowena. But…others insisted on Helena, too. She sighed. It was still a good compliment. She, Hermione Jean Granger, was at the top of her game. She'd never received less than an O on any essay, even those given out by the potions curmudgeon himself. There was no way in hell she was going let this essay defeat her.

It was so far, though. But it wasn't her fault. No, it was the fault of the stupid thing attached to her wrist.

Hermione glared at the tiny diamonds circling the face of her silver Cartier watch. It had been a gift from her Grandmother, one that she used to love, until now. How could something so delicate sound so obnoxious, and—and—judgmental?

_Judgmental,_ Hermione thought, staring down at the short hand as it started another journey around. What an absurd thought. Time couldn't be judgmental. And yet, there was no denying that each tick reminded her of a gavel banging against a judge's desk, waiting for her to do something, telling her that she couldn't, daring her to even try to sum up what it was that she should do or who she should be. It was all confusing, so terribly confusing.

Hermione propped her elbow on the table, before resting her chin upon her fist. This was just a paper, just another essay. And not even a good one. This was incredibly silly and ridiculous to the extreme. She should be on the train with her friends, listening to them dish about the various parties they'd attended the night before, while she decided which party she thought was the worthiest. She would then jot down a quick note in her planner, and then announce her choice when she returned. It was what she did. She treated every aspect of Hogwarts as if it were on the grading system. Who was outstanding? She was of course. Which party exceeded her expectations? Which boys were acceptable to date, or which girls had just that something special? And which person, place or thing was a troll? It all went like that for the most part, with only the subject changing. She was a decision maker. She decided…judged.

Hermione's hand dropped from under her chin, causing her head to fall forward before she set it to right. She quickly glanced around, hoping no one saw the embarrassing display, but all their eyes were glued elsewhere. She sighed in relief. What would they have thought?

_Does it matter? You're queen B, right?_

_Right,_ she answered, picking up her quill she wrote:

_It doesn't matter what you think. _

It was only a moment before she crossed it out.

* * *

Harry Potter had spent his Saturdays participating in much more exciting past times than this: sleeping, shagging, eating, snogging, quidditch, shagging, chess, snogging, exploding snaps, being blown, etc. Any of those would be preferable to sitting in an overflow library listening to Hermione's dooms day device or perhaps the countdown to Y2K. It didn't matter, but the thing was bloody annoying.

Harry sighed, he really shouldn't have taken that challenge. His mother would ream him out for flying in the castle, while his father would pat him on the back in secret. That was how it always was. He'd do something rebellious, his mum would be disappointed, and his dad would be proud. It was difficult being stuck in the middle, trying to please both of them. Look what it cost him, a hand job by Astoria, which would have included snogging and probably led to shagging. Life was so unfair.

Okay, fine, maybe it wasn't, at least his life…to a certain extent. He did have a famous father, who gave him everything he wanted, and a mother who loved him dearly. He was rich, good looking, got decent grades, and was well liked by most of the student body. And yet, it all felt facile. It was as if his life had been prophesied to be exactly what it was. As if he was on a course to banality.

Harry looked down at the paper and the quill. What was he supposed to be doing again? _Something stupid, that's for sure._ Writing about himself, or who he thought he was, or… he wasn't sure. It wasn't like the greasy git didn't know who he was already, seeing as he was such good friend with his mum.

Harry rolled his eyes. He couldn't understand why his mother would want to be friends with a freak like Snape. She was a warm and compassionate person, while he was just an arse hole. The man hated him simply because his mother chose his father over sleeping with a vat of Crisco.

Harry smirked at his own joke, before concentrating on the paper. "Who do you think you are?" He said under his breath. _Who do I think I am?_ He thought. _I think I'm me._ Picking up his quill he wrote two sentences.

_I am me._

_I am not predetermined. _

Harry glared at the words, and then crossed them out, tossing the quill on the table as he retrieved his anime ink pen from one of the six pockets of his cargo shorts and began to draw.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, saw Harry admiring his doodle covered parchment with a grin pasted on his handsome face. HA! He was an artist. _Take that you slimy bat_, he thought, admiring the voluptuous female wiggling her hips and blowing kisses at him. She looked like a 1950's pinup girl, a la Betty Paige, in her black bustier and matching stiletto pumps. Harry liked his women stacked and this one was so top heavy she'd tilt over if she were real.

He should turn in his art to Snape. He was sure the potion's master would sneer and call him a reprobate, while secretly waiting to return to the dungeon and get his rocks off.

Harry frowned. The idea of Snape pleasuring himself was a sight worse than the truth that his parents actually fornicated. How else would he be in the world?_ Yuck!_

"Okay, enough of this shit"_,_ Harry said, tossing the pin down next to his parchment. He stared obliviously down at his paper, never noticing the four pairs of eyes trained on him.

"What shit," Luna asked cheerily.

"Huh," The seeker said, looking up and blinking.

"You said enough of this shit. I was just wondering which shit you were talking about."

Harry looked at Luna as if she were an anomaly. Was she serious? She couldn't be.

"She's waiting Potter," Malfoy snickered and smirked at Harry's confused expression.

"Erm," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just a figure of speech." At Luna's blank look Harry continued, "I didn't mean anything buy it, really. It's just that…"

"It's just that this entire situation is a bunch of shit." Malfoy said. "Whoever heard of giving detention on the day the students leave for a holiday?"

"I haven't," Neville mumbled.

"It was a rhetorical question Garden Boy," Malfoy said. "What did you do to end up in here anyway?" Neville opened his mouth to speak when The Slytherin Prince held up a hand. "Never mind, I could care less."

"Don't be a prick Malfoy," Harry said.

"Fuck off Potter, no one asked for your two knuts."

"You fuck off Malfoy. And I can add my knuts wherever I like."

Draco laughed, "Sorry Potter, I don't swing that way."

Harry jumped up from his seat, his chair toppled backward to lean on the table behind him. "Keep talking you Slytherin jackoff and I'll-"

"Oh give it a rest Harry," Hermione said, looking at him over her right shoulder. "Don't let him rile you up. You're better than that."

Harry stared at the gorgeous brunette for a few second before grabbing his chair and returning to his seat.

Draco clapped his hand slowly, "Wow Granger, I didn't know you also taught the minions to sit." It was common knowledge that although Harry and Hermione were the king and queen of Gryffindor, her word carried more weight than his. Draco would never let a bint keep him on a leash. "Did you teach him to fetch too?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and focused on the paper in front of her.

"Aww, the Princess doesn't want to reveal her secrets," he mocked.

"What secrets?" Luna asked curiously.

"The secret of how she makes almost every dolt in this school worship the ground she walks on and believe her shite smells like roses. Why every idiot professor in the school thinks she's God's gift to academia or even why she changed your tights from red to black."

"Oh" Luna said.

"Sod off Malfoy," Hermione said.

"She changed the color of Lovegood's tights?" Neville asked.

"Does her shite smell like roses?" Harry asked—he couldn't help.

Draco looked back at Harry, "Of course," he said in false geniality, "Her shite smells like roses covered in bat dung."

Harry chortled, and then quieted when Hermione through him a dirty look before turning around in her seat.

"Ooh, way to back down Potter?" Draco grinned, turning back to the front. .

Harry ground his teeth, refusing to rise to Malfoy's bait. He wasn't one of Hermione's minions. He was no one's minion. The only reason he'd backed down was because Malfoy was a shite starter, and he had no intention of letting Malfoy control him for the next few hours. His father always said, "Never let anyone lead you by our emotions, especially someone you disliked. They're liable to make you forget yourself and do and say things that you shouldn't." And Harry really didn't like Draco Malfoy. He was a stuck up prat whose sole purpose in life was to rile others up. Harry had no intention of playing the puppet to his Svengali.

The room fell into an uneasy silence that was driving Draco mad. He hated silence. He got enough of it at home. There were moments for it, like when he was studying or reading a good book, but then it really wasn't silent then. At least not in his head as words and thoughts of others took center stage. He wished he had an interesting book to read, but no, he was surrounded by muggle literature, as if muggles were adapt at writing. They were fools, the lot of them. Three of their most significant writers were wizards: Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Milton. _As if a muggle could have come up with irony, _he rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it all.

_So what to do? What to do?_ He had several pieces of parchment, a quill, and four very depressing individuals who might give him a modicum of entertainment. However, only two of them would do the job. He stared at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. It would be such fun to get her angry. Draco would love nothing more than to knock her off that pedestal she'd erected at the highest point of the castle.

"Princess," he called syrupy to no effect. "Come one, let's kiss and make up." Draco made long obnoxious kissing sounds.

Hermione turned her head to the left, letting her hair fall forward to obstruct Draco's view of her face.

"Don't make me come over there."

Head snapping to the right, she said, "Come over here and I'll hex your balls off."

"Without a wand?"

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she raised one eyebrow. "Wandless magic, I became adept at using it for charms and transfigurations in our sixth year. So I may not be able to hex you, but I can shrink them," Hermione looked Draco up and down, then added, "smaller than they already are."

"Ooh, burn, that's more like it Princess."

"Ugh, you're such a bloody prick."

"First you talk about my balls and now my prick. Are you having erotic thoughts about me? I would be flattered but I don't do muggles."

Hermione's cheeks pinked, which was very satisfying to Draco. It didn't matter that it was a lie. Draco Malfoy shagged just about any good looking female that moved: witches, muggleborns, muggles, etc. Hell, he'd even had sex with a fairy, which had been mind blowing to say the least. Women loved him and he loved them. _Well most,_ he thought, staring at the lovely blush that highlighted Hermione's creamy cheek. He might not like her, but wouldn't throw her out of bed…until after the sex.

Feeling satisfied with himself, Draco turned back to his paper. Nothing had changed and it was doubtful it would. Merlin, this blew. He couldn't sit here for five hours. Pushing his chair, he stood up and approached the desk Snape had been standing behind.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, causing the others to look towards the front of the room.

"I'm getting out of here."

"Really, how?"

"I know you were born a muggle, but you've attended this school for seven years, so I'm sure you've heard of magic."

"Don't be a smartass it was an honest question."

"Blow me Potter?"

"I'm not a poof or Lavender Brown."

"I know you're not Lavender Brown, but you do spend quite an unhealthy amount of time holed up alone with Weaslebee."

Not waiting to hear Harry's reply, Draco bent down to examine the five wands lying carelessly on the table. There couldn't be anything here, placing his large hands on the table. He leaned closer. His godfather probably thought that he could leave the wands on the table without one of them being brave enough to take theirs. And why not, who would disobey Severus Snape"? _Besides me,_ Draco thought and reached for his wand, only to have his hand hit a solid surface.

"Bravo, Malfoy, you really showed us what you've learned in the last seven years." Hermione said, "I've seen muggle magicians do better tricks than that."

Draco gritted his teeth, but otherwise ignored her. There had to be a way into this "box". He was going to get his wand and then get the hell out of here.

Placing his hands on the box, he tried to lift it but it didn't budge. He pushed and pulled at the invisible structure, yet it never moved. _Fuck_, he wanted his bloody wand back.

Someone started clapping, "Malfoy that was the most entertaining thing that's happened all day." Harry said. "Who knew watching you attempt to movie air would be so exciting. Will you try to sit on it next?"

"Oh please do," Hermione said, "I for one would like to see if it holds your weight."

Sneering at the two of them, Draco marched back to his desk and plopped down into his chair to snickers from Harry.

"Draco you should really read advanced transfigurations, but I suppose not being in the class doesn't give you the opportunity to." Hermione smiled sweetly, "If you had been in the advance class, like myself, then you would know that you can't physically move air. Oh, you can manipulate it by using blades or a fan." She paused, "Those are muggle inventions, but of course you wouldn't know anything about that. However, we were discussing something you know a little about, air." Hermione knew she sounded patronizing and loved every moment of it. Putting someone in their place was her specialty. "Nevertheless, with your limited knowledge I suppose you can understand that you can't move solidified air.

"Why?" Neville asked.

"Because magic charges the air and turns into something like a force field."

"A what," Harry asked.

"Force field," Neville said helpfully.

"I said something like a force field, not a force field. But what-ever, it's kind of close; watch Stars Wars or Star trek, I'm sure you can rent it from the video store."

Neville brightened, "I've seen Star Wars. I own the trilogy."

"What?" Draco asked, "Why would stars be fighting? That's impossible and you're supposed to be the brightest witch of your age."

Hermione's mouth dropped open and then she giggled, "The stars don't literally fight, Malfoy." She said between giggles, "It's a war in space." At his indignant expression Hermione's giggles turned into full blown laughter. Malfoy thought he was soooo special just because he was pureblood. It was times like these that Hermione was grateful that she had her foot in both worlds. "Forget it," she said sobering up, "I'm not going to try to explain space exploration to you; perhaps Longbottom will do it since he's an expert.

"I didn't say I was an expert," Neville murmured.

"Sorry," she said not sounding it, "but you do know more than him."

"I want to know," Luna said, turning around in her seat to stare at Neville, whose cheeks looked as if they'd been painted with rouge.

"Well, it's about these people who live in outer space-"

Draco scoffed, "what a bunch of rubbish, this sound like a fantasy."

"It's science fiction," Neville said. "And it's not rubbish."

"Woo hoo, way to go Neville," applauded Harry. "I think I might want to learn what Star Wars is too."

"Well, umm, Stars Wars is a trilogy that consists of three movies."

"We know what a trilogy is," the blonde boy, who wasn't interested, grunted.

"O yeah," Neville said, a dab of sweat glistened on his forehead, "Of course. Well, the three movies are A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, and Return of The Jedi." Whipping hand across his brow, Neville begin to explain the Star Wars plot to two very confused wizards, and one disgruntled one who couldn't help but listen in for the next forty minutes.

Hermione, pretending to doodle the entire time, smiled off and on throughout Neville's narrative. At times she couldn't help but smile when Harry asked a question. She found it a bit ironic that a pureblood, like Neville, knew more about muggle movies than a halfblood, like Harry.

"So Varth Dader was really Luke's father?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, and its Darth Vader" Neville said, feeling a bit proud of himself for knowing something others didn't. He wasn't the smartest wizard in the school, so it was nice to be the one to give the 'facts' for a change.

"Who cares, it all sounded like a bit of rubbish to me." Draco said aloud, but thought, _entertaining rubbish._ He would have to find these videos over holiday.

"Well, I liked it." Luna said.

"Me too," Harry admitted.

"I'm glad," Neville said,

"Is it time to go yet?" Draco asked.

"No," Hermione sighed, putting her head on the desk and closing her eyes. "We have over fours to go."

The sound of sighs echoed throughout the space followed by the ticking of a Cartier watch.

* * *

End Note:

Again, anything that was underline, the character crossed out. :( I wish it took all of word formatting. O' well.

To those also reading TGR, I will try to update that in two weeks. I have a test on Monday, so this weekend will be study, study, maybe write, and study.

Thanks for reading. I will try to update TBC again this month, but Please don't quote me on that.

As always, reviews are very welcome and much appreciated. *g*


	4. Three

I do not own the world of Harry Potter.

A/N: I apologize for the late update, but I have been suffering from writer's block in regards to this story for months. I wrote half of this chapter months ago, but the rest wouldn't come no matter how many times I opened docs.

* * *

Oh you're so condescending

Your gall is never ending

We don't want nothin', not a thing from you

Your life is trite and jaded

Boring and confiscated

If that's your best, your best won't do

**(We're Not Going to take it by Twisted Sister)**

**Three**

Severus Snape had seen many things in his tenure at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: boys throwing dung bombs in the girl's bathroom, girls attempting enlarging charms on their breasts, students making out after curfew, and other things he could have gone the rest of his life without seeing. But he'd never witnessed anything before quite like the sight that greeted his eyes.

He wasn't sure how to react. It amazed him, simply amazed him that they would have the gall to-to fall asleep in the middle of his detention! A part of him was angry, another indignant, and a small, very miniscule part of him wanted to laugh. But of course he wouldn't. He was Severus Snape after all, brooding potions master. Still though, he could have a wicked sense of humor when it suited him. This particular situation however did not suit him, not at all.

Walking to the middle of the room he took in the five sleeping students who seemed to have not a care in the world, particularly his godson who had transfigured his desk into a daybed with a pillow and blanket, unlike his fellow classmates who'd only gone so far as to transfigure their sheets of parchments into pillows. Snape smirked. Slytherin's believed that if you were going to flaunt the rules, then flaunt them in style. Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin to his very core, just like his father. Draco's wandless transfigurations were quite impressive. He knew his godson was smart, but he rarely applied himself. And why would he when he already had a cushy career waiting on him after graduation? Draco needed to learn to do things for himself and not just accept the lot that life had given him.

Turning from Draco, the professor observed the almost uniform pillows the others were lying on. He'd never admit it to anyone that he was disappointed that Miss Granger had only managed to transfigure her parchment into a pillow. She was a more than capable witch, the smartest he'd seen since…well, he'd never had a pupil nor gone to school with anyone who was as intelligent as Miss Granger. So seeing the measly red and gold throw pillow she and Potter were resting on was quite sad. And there was no question that she'd made both her and Potter's pillows. He was also certain that Miss Lovegood had created her and Longbottom's purple and bronze star shaped pillows.

Snape's lip twitched at the ridiculousness of teaching students to transfigure solid items into small pieces of furniture. If they were running for their lives, perhaps they could transfigure a rock into a side table and hope their pursuer tripped over it.

_I doubt Potter would need to do that, he's quite good at D.A.D.A._

Snape frowned at the unbidden thought and flicked his wand, sending heads and a body crashing onto hardwood tables. He smirked, now this was funny.

"Dude!" exclaimed Mr. Potter.

"Ouch!" mumbled Miss Granger.

"Bloody hell, what was that for?" Draco grouched.

"This is not pre-school Mr. Malfoy," drawled the dower professor. "You haven't worn a nappy in years; therefore, you do not get naptime. I gave you an assignment to complete and I expect it to be completed."

Draco scowled, rolling off the table and into the chair that had been a very comfortable blanket.

"If you have to go the lavatory I suggest you go now. The house-elves will serve you lunch in an hour." Snape swept from the room without waiting for them to follow.

Yawning, Draco stood, stretching his arms above his head and rising to his tip toes. His bones creaked softy as he twisted left and right, bent forward and back, relieving the tension in his muscles. Shaking his arms loosely in front of him, he let out a yawn worthy of a lion, and then followed his godfather out the door.

"I suppose we should follow the git," Harry yawned and stood.

Hermione rolled her eyes and walked with him out the door. Luna and Neville followed.

* * *

"How long do we have left?" Harry asked to no one in particular.

"I don't know," Hermione said.

"Where are the bloody house-elves, I'm starving?" Draco asked.

"It's not quite been an hour," Said Luna.

"A little over three hours, I think Harry," said Neville.

"Great, just great," someone said.

It might have been five minutes or it could have been ten when several resounding cracks split the silence in the room. Four house-elves appeared, carrying cutlery and dishes to which they quickly dispensed to each student before disappearing with a few more cracks.

"Hey," Draco called after them," where's the-

A perfectly proportioned meal of roasted chicken, steamed carrots, asparagus, potatoes and two rolls appeared on each plate and next to it was a full goblet of pumpkin juice.

Draco stared down at the mouth watering dishes and dug in as if he was starving (he'd slept through breakfast). His mother would have been appalled if she'd seen the way he cut into his chicken with enough force to make the juices squirt on the table.

Hermione stared at Draco from the corner of her eyes, unbelieving that the Slytherin Prince was hacking at his chicken like…she coughed, to cover up her laugh.

Pausing with the fork raised to his mouth Draco looked over at Hermione who was- was laughing at him. "What?"

"You look like Ron," she giggled, before resuming her meal and effectively killing his appetite.

"Low Granger, even for you that was low."

Taking a dainty bit from a piece of asparagus she said, "I only call it like I see it."

"Well stop looking at me," he said for something to say. His stomach was growling and he could barely think. _Fuck it, _he thought digging into his meal heartily. He hopped his mother would never find out.

Draco was feeling much better after his nap and hearty meal. The chicken had been tender and the asparagus steamed to perfection. The only thing missing was dessert, but he supposed they had to punish him in some way. This was detention after all- the longest of his life. Not that he'd had many detentions, he was Draco Malfoy. But still, this was torture of the worst kind. He'd almost rather be subjected to the cruciatus curse for ten minutes than to sit in here for six hours.

He was aging by the minute. He'd be a shriveled up corpse by the time he got out of there. There was just too much time, too much time to think. Too much time to question the direction his life was going in. Too much time to think about his family and wonder how it all went to shit. Not that he could have done anything about it, but it still made him wonder. He didn't want to wonder, didn't want to think or question. He just wanted to live in the moment, which was impossible when there wasn't shit to do in said moment.

Closing his eyes he ran frustrated hand through his hair. He needed to get out of here. He needed to relax, he needed…

"Anyone up for a field trip?"

Four pairs of eyes turned towards him with various expressions: curiosity, awe, happiness, and annoyance. Her expression didn't surprise him, not in the slightest. Draco knew that in order to get everyone to go, he'd have to get her first. He had no intention of getting caught in the hallway alone, not that they would. He was just taking precautions. Him getting caught alone would be bad, them together, not so much…he hoped. Still…he raised what he hoped was an inviting eyebrow at the shepherd.

"No, thank you," The princess said, turning her small nose up at him. "We're not supposed to leave the room without the professor's permission, and I don't recall Professor Snape giving his.

God he hated her. Okay, maybe not hate, but she was such a fucking little swot, always turning her cute little nose at everyone. Yes, she had a cute nose. Almost everything about her was cute with the exception of her personality, which was about welcoming as a black mamba. "Come on Granger, where's the Gryffindor courage that you lot are so famous for." He had her, he knew he did. If there was one thing a true Gryffindor couldn't handle and that was being challenged, especially by a Slytherin. He smirked, and stood.

"Shall we," he asked with a mock bow, offering his arms as if he'd just asked her dance.

She glared at him, before standing up and ignoring his arm.

* * *

Sometimes, Hermione was certain that being a Gryffindor was a curse. For a girl who considered herself level headed, she often found herself doing daring things for stupid reasons. That damn sorting hat knew what it was doing when it sorted her into the "easily goaded into taking a dare" house. She should have let it place her in Ravenclaw as it had first hinted at, but no, she thought she needed to loosen up a bit and Gryffindor house would do it. It had, but still…

"Where are we going Malfoy?" Harry demanded from over Hermione's shoulder.

"The dungeons."

"Professor Snape's office is in the dungeon."

"Thanks for the info Longbottom. I had no idea where my head of house's office was located."

"I was only saying," Neville mumbled, shuffling behind the group.

"Well, who asked you?"

"No one, but he has a point. Why are we going towards the professor's office?" Harry said. "We may only have a few weeks here, but I have absolutely no intention of spending them in detention."

"I need to get something from my room."

"And you had to bring us along with you?"

"I didn't force you to come, Potter." Draco sneered. "You were bored and decided to tag along." Of course this was utter bullshit, seeing as Draco had played on the stupid Gryffindor's need of adventure. He smirked, they were just too easy.

Harry glowered, but refrained from replying as the five teenagers crept along the empty corridor. They moved as silent as they possibly could from one floor to the next. The school felt empty and would have been silent if not for the chattering portraits who watched the teens sneak toward their destination.

"What do you think they're doing?"

"Should they even be in the halls?"

"Shouldn't they be on the Hogwarts Express?"

"I think it's Easter Break?"

"Yes, yes, perhaps they missed it?"

"Oh, dear, how dreadful."

"Why do you think they're sneaking about?"

"Someone should see if they need help."

"Tell them they missed the train."

"Hello," a portrait called, "You there, the young man with the white hair."

Draco stopped walking to stare up the blonde Fop dressed in pale blue silk knee britches and jacket with a white frilly shirt. He wore high heels on his feet. High Heels! Men's fashion in the eighteenth century left much to be desired. "Is he talking to me?"

"You're the only one whose hair looks white," Harry sniggered, stopping with the rest of the group.

"Sod off Potter." He stated, before staring up at He Who Wears Heels, "What do you want? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"You've already missed the train."

"I'm not trying to catch the train."

"Then why are you in a hurry?"

"It's my affair."

"Well," he began pompously, "it cannot only be your affair as you have four others behind you."

Draco scowled.

"Or perhaps you didn't know they were there."

"I bloody well knew they were there."

"Well you did say it was your affair, which is singular and…"

"It doesn't matter whose affair it is, it's not yours, so mind your own damn business."

Several portraits gasped, while a few remonstrated about the lack of respect of today's youth. "In my day…" "I can't believe anyone would…" "These children have no idea…" The sounds of portraits coming to life grew louder as each one added his or her opinion.

Hermione could not believe it, she simply could not believe it. Only Draco sodding Malfoy could get into an argument with a portrait, while trying to stay incognito. The arrogant arse. If she got another detention because of him, she would kill him, literally.

"You young people shouldn't be in the hall."

"Someone should tell a professor."

"I'll do it," a young cad said.

"Please don't," Neville squeaked.

"Yes, please don't tell the professor. Mal-Draco is very sorry. If you would please quiet down, I could explain." Hermione said, putting on her most charming demeanor. The portraits began to quiet as they all focused on her. She smiled, as if she was in awe of having their undivided attention. Her round brown eyes widened in wonder and her cheeks took on a lovely blush. She wasn't Queen B for nothing. "Draco didn't mean to offend you, really."

"I di- ouch," Draco said, after Hermione kicked him in the shin.

"Shut up, you idiot," she hissed for only him to hear, before turning back to her captive audience. "You see, Draco got into a little trouble last night and ended up in detention. We-we all did." She looked down as if in contrition and then stared up at the fop from under long dark lashes. "We were supposed to send our luggage ahead of us with our friends, but Draco forgot something in his dorm and we were accompanying him to get it."

"Oh," the fop said, smiling benevolently down at beautiful ingénue, "and if it wouldn't be too personal, would you mind telling me what he forgot. We portraits rarely get any new information." It was a lie. The portraits knew everything that went on in the school.

"Well, it's a little personal, but," she turned to Draco who looked as if he wanted to rip the portrait to shreds, and then crucio her. Smiling, Hermione walked over to the painting. The Fop's portrait was above her head, so she motioned for him to come down into the painting of a landscape with rolling hills that was situated below his.

The Fop hopped down into the painting and stopped to let the wind tousle his hair, before approaching the edge of the frame.

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, but continued to smile sweetly.

Draco watched the entire thing, torn between anger and admiration. The portraits had stopped glaring at him to stare fondly at her. They hung on her every word, and The Fop looked as if she were Athena about to impart the knowledge of the Gods upon him. Draco wanted to hate her, he really did, but he was beginning to feel somewhat amused.

"Really," The Fop said.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed solemnly.

"Well, that is something. I suppose…poor boy."

_Poor boy_, Draco thought. What poor boy? She couldn't, she wouldn't…what the bloody hell was she saying about him. He was about to break up the love fest when she stepped back from The Fop.

"Thank you for being so understanding," Hermione said, batting her eyelashes.

"Anything for you my dear," The Fop said, bowing so low that his nose almost touched the grass. "Now, I think you students should get to your destination soon. I fear a professor will be coming this way soon."

Not needing to be told twice the party ran towards the dungeon.

"So, what did you tell him," Harry asked, once they finally stopped close to the Slytherin common room.

"I told him Malfoy left something in his room."

"Yeah, what," Draco snapped.

Hermione smiled, white teeth gleaming against the flickering torch lights. "I told him you left your-your blanky."

"You what," Draco practically growled. He moved towards the petite brunet, but was stopped when Harry put a hand on his arm.

"We're here, Malfoy. Get your shit so we can go."

Draco shook the hand off and glared daggers at Hermione, before going into his common room.

"Good one," Harry said to a grinning Hermione.

"I like to think so."

"The portraits like to gossip," Neville commented.

"I know."

"What does it look like?" Luna sighed.

"What does what look like?"

"Draco's blanky."

* * *

"Where is he?"

"In there," Luna pointed to the stone wall opposite the one she was leaning against.

Harry shot her an exasperated look. "What's taking him so long?"

"If any of us knew we would tell you," Hermione said, staring toward the hallway they'd come down.

"It's been five minutes."

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Neville added.

"It's been ten minutes," Harry said. "I say we ditch him and head back to the library."

"We can't do that," Neville said.

"Says who?" Harry asked, stepping towards Neville.

"We're Gryffindors, we don't leave people behind."

"We don't leave our housemates behind. He's a Slytherin."

"And I'm a Ravenclaw, Harry." Luna said softly. "Would you leave me behind?"

"That-that's not the same. You're not Malfoy."

"But I'm not a Gryffindor either." Questioning blue eyes, met contrite green ones.

Harry was surprised by the openness in those eyes. The knowledge in them seemed too old, too big, for someone so small. Her eyes were like liquid sapphire, cool on the surface, but would burn if you dove in. He looked down unable to keep eye contact. He felt a shame, a shame of his selfishness. It was foreign to feel this way while looking into eyes that didn't reflect his. "We'll wait."

Reaching out, Luna brushed her hand against his, "Thank you, Harry."

He cleared his throat. "Five minutes, we'll wait five more minutes."

"Of course," she agreed, turning back to stare at the wall.

Following her example, Harry stared at the hidden entrance, knowing he'd stand there as long as she wanted him to, but not sure why.

Luckily, Harry didn't have to wait too much longer as Fifteen minutes later Draco emerged from the Slytherin dorm.

"What took you so long?"

"Calm down Potter, I had some things to do." Draco lied. He didn't have anything to do. He'd sat on his ass and twiddled his thumbs for as long as he thought he could. It had only taken him a couple of minutes to grab what he'd come for, but he wouldn't tell them that.

"What things," the bespectacled boy spat out.

"I couldn't find my blanky," he smirked, before heading off in a different direction than they'd come.

"This isn't the way we came," Hermione said, falling into step with Draco.

"Yeah, well, it's the way we're returning. Besides, it's faster this way."

She scoffed, "You just don't want to pass those portraits."

"I find your insinuation tiresome. I am not now nor have I ever been afraid of a couple of portraits. This way is faster."

"If it's a faster way, then why didn't we take it the first time?" The Gryffindor Princess asked innocently.

"Because, I forgot about it Granger."

"Sure you did."

"Do you want to get back to the overflow library or not?"

"Yes, just try not to get us lost."

"I'd like to lose you alright," Draco mumbled.

"What was that?"

Draco did not hit women, but that didn't mean he couldn't hex one, especially particularly aggravating little swots. Too bad he didn't have his wand. "I said, turn right."

"Sure you did," she said, and followed him down another hallway.


End file.
